


By any other name

by Gadeshua (KerryLamb)



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, I'm Bad At Tagging, Love in the time of war, happiness in the face of bleakness, language lessons, my GoT OTP, slow burn drabbles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 17:35:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11651412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KerryLamb/pseuds/Gadeshua
Summary: Missandei is giving Grey Worm, the Unsullied’s commander, lessons in the Common Tongue as a means to further his education of his Queen’s culture. He uses events involving Missandei to aid him in the memorization of this strange, flat language.





	1. Qelos n. star

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while back and never got around to posting it but I figured that I should so I can be inspired to finish it. 
> 
> Answering quick questions about other open WIPS: yes I'm still working on them and yes I do intend to finish them once my job training finishes up. That I'm even posting this right now is stupid but I desire to so I shall.

The first time he speaks it the word falls from his mouth like stone. His tongue protests at curling in such a fashion and his lips move numbly like a drunkard’s. He grunts in frustrations but when she gently laughs with a smile, the sting of failure is temporarily forgotten.

 

“ It’s quite alright. Try again.” She urges, with a look that stirs him. 

 

When they are together, Grey Worm feels things for the first time, things he never thought an unsullied should possess. It is not for him to think, just to do as he is told. With her he does both. Thinking, feeling, as if he is more than he knows himself to be.

 

“  _ Stahar _ …” he mouths slowly, retesting the word. It still sounds wrong to his ears. When Missandei says it the word floats off her tongue like a bird. He sounds more like a lolling cow.

 

“ Star.” she corrects him firmly but without reproach of a trainer’s goading. He tries again to mimic  _ qelos _ as she says it in common and has a bit more success.

 

“ St-arrh.”

 

“ Good! Very good.” She smiles brightly, her face haloed by the light of the fire burning down on the ground between them. “ Qelos. Star. You’ll be speaking common in no time at all.”

 

Grey Worm feels the sharp dip of his innards at her praise. He has pleased her in his efforts. Though his face remains sullen, the young warrior feels as bright as the flames burning down on the ground between them.

 

“ I would learn another, Learned Master.” He requests giving her a title. It places her above him to respect her talent and honor the regard his Queen gives her but she waves the name away with curious grimace while shaking her head.

 

“ Then you shall learn another...and please call me Missandei. I am far from being a master.”

 

He nods and quickly replaces the title with her name. “ Yes, Missandei. I am honored in this.”

  
What  _ this _ is he does not clarify but as she pauses with the flickering light dancing across her face he thinks she knows. It is the first time his heart races when he is not fueling his body for combat. It is not unpleasant.


	2. Raenabagon- v. to wash

He swallows thickly as he peers across the river. There in the shallows in thick bog among the bathing women is Missandei. She stand there among them, wet and bare. The sun dapples her copper skin with bright patches of light where it can slip itself through the trees and paints her gold. 

 

She has yet to attend to her hair, the dark teak colored curls lifting and swaying with each passing breeze. Her figure is sound but her face lures his gaze like a kid towards kindness. Enchanting and stunning, Missandei remains him of the first word she taught him. The river around them fades into a dull focus until only her pensive face is all he sees. She shines.

 

He tries to pry his eyes away as she bends towards the water and rinses her wash rag but to his dismay his eyes disobey him. It’s too late to try again as his eyes leave her hands to find her looking straight at him.

 

She looks taken aback and quickly moves to cover her breasts and sex. His blatant staring has shamed her and he feels himself angry at his earlier inability to look away. The urge to strike the water passes his mind but he does not indulge wasted movement. As he mentally scolds himself something curious happens. 

  
Slowly, her hands unfurl and drop to her side, revealing the skin she had sought to hide from him. A deep pink settles across her face as she stands there boldly for perusal. His perusal.   
  
Grey Worm’s stomach knots and a sensation he doesn’t understand flutters down in his belly.  _ I am ill _ he concludes as heat flushes through him and his head grows lighter. Without a second glance he dives back down under the water. It does not cool the burning of his body.


	3. urdir n. Language

She stands with a poise none of the others there present possess as she interprets for those who wish to seek the Queen’s ear. The guards are like himself all taut and still while the Queen herself sits with an easy confidence all those in command exude. Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah stand are at attention without openly expressing it, their body language lying to those who would believe them to be loitering around the throne room.

 

Only Missandei has the grace to attend the Queen so deftly that she can be beside her and not draw attention to away from her majesty as she speaks quietly in the common tongue.

 

Grey Worm watches all that enter and leave but his ears listen out for the Queen’s command while he entertains himself with Missandei’s magic.

 

Unlike any other known to the court the bronze maid can ingest one language spit out another. Day after day she never ceases to amaze him with the acrobatics her quick recall. Her tongue has more talent to it than most have about the whole of themselves. 

 

Guest by guest, Yukanese becomes Astoparian while Low Valyrian is elevated to its most formal state. And the sounds take on characters of their own as she utters the flat, lumpy huffs of the common tongue to the sleek, slippery hiss the Dornish. Every time she speaks, Grey Worm is fascinated by her intellect. 

 

One night as he inquires over learning more languages she seems surprised. “ Why ever would you want to speak so many? It was my station and duty to learn to speak so many.”

 

“ I should know more for my station and duty. To protect the Queen.”

 

Her long, dark brows pitch upwards as she pins him with a smile. “ But you hate learning the Common tongue and that would most certainly aid the Queen.”

 

That wasn’t necessarily true. He did not favor the sound of the common tongue but did like learning it because  _ she _ was teaching him. More languages meant more time with Missandei. He tries his hand at impressing his tutor with what he knew. “ Me help Danerys more, more me know.”

 

“ I. Not me.” She corrects him.

 

“ I. I want to help more. I want…”. 

 

He stops himself, thinking over what he was going to say. It may be too bold in how, no matter her perception. Best to speak short and simply less, he confuse her or expose the troubling brood of emotions she inspires in him. 

 

Grey Worm feels her eyes on his face as he works out the words in his head.  _ Short and simple _ he reminds himself.

 

She shifts her weight on her hips, shifting from one foot to the other and raises a brow for him to continue. “ You want…?”

 

He straightens his back and looks past her and finds it easier to speak this way. “ I want to talk with Missandei all ways I can. I help Missandei too.”

 

She smiles at his words and laughs to herself a bit. “ You do help me Grey Worm. You are a big help.”

 

He is hearten to hear this. It was the longest conversation they had in common.


	4. zalagon v. to burn

He along with many others escort the Queen and Missandei around the market square of Yunkai. The sun is hot along the metal bowl of his helmet, drenching him and his men in sweat as they march in a V formation around them followed by the haphazard file of the second sons still patrolling the city. 

 

He does not want either of them in the market. For all their policing, the city is still ripe of dissidents who have no problem with making their displeasure with her rule known. His eyes scan the crowd for any such trouble but other than the bustling, hot bodies crowding over one another in an effort to get where they’re going he sees no such unrest in the ceaseless din.

 

The pair stop at a stall lined with baubles and linens and they fuss over which items are truly worth the expensive. The vendor, both honored and offended at their words, tries to persuade them of his fairness. His large, fat fingers lift bangles and crushed silk scarves out towards them in a honeyed croon, beseeching them to look. The women, in their boredom, inspect the wares for themselves only to still argue that it is far too much. 

 

The Queen hums and lifts up a necklace studded with violet cabochon gems set into silver as Missendai glances over a number of thin wire bangles of various metals. It’s clear the Queen pays the merchant no mind as he gushes over the long arduous process it took to procure the gems. “ It would only enhance the beauty of your eyes, your Grace! Such wide bibb necklaces are the fashion! To wear one would show your unity with the people of Yunkai!”

 

“ Hmm.” she replies, politely putting it back down against the table. “ I’m sure…”

 

Sensing his wanning pitch, the salesman his luck with what he assumes to be her common handmaid.

 

“ Ah, young lady, sweet lady come let me see your arm. I will highlight your beauty with the right color bracelet, yes? Come, come! Try this silver. See how it washes you out? This will not do, not at all!”

 

He takes a hold of Missandei by the wrist with her elbow resting in the palm of the other and a glint in her eye. Grey Worm instantly does not approve of his causal touch of her person. He grips his spear to tightly as he watches Missandei nod politely and squirm as the merchants uses his fingers to stroke her forearm.

 

“ Gold would be best for you. You could even try copper, what with your lovely dusky complexion. My, my, what a delicate, little arm you have. Let’s see how best to adorn you.”

 

Grey Worm exhales sharply through his nose, ignoring the small glances his men shoot his way as the vendor continues to prattle on and touch her. He has removed three sets of bracelets and is now on his fourth when the hand palming her elbow moves to rest above the swell of her backside. 

 

Missandei jerks away but he eagerly pulls her closer with the hand at her back and holds her wrist much too tightly.

 

“ Sir, I would ask that you stop…” she says, feeblely, leaning away as he tries to steal a kiss. By now the Queen has noticed her distress and orders the merchant to release her but he is too focused on trying to subdue her that their Queen’s words fall on deaf ears.  

 

Her majesty glances in their direction and even though he is towards the back of the formation, Gray Worm races forward pass Green Bile, Tooth rot and Mucus plug to bash his shield into the vendor’s back. The lecher sways with a startled yelp, giving Missandei enough time to pull away and fall behind Grey Worm’s back. Her small hands go to his side, fueling the protective angry he feels steadily rising out of his chest. 

 

Grey Worm squares his jaw and  stands at attention with the rest of his Unsullied falling in around the women.

 

The salesman reels around with a fierce, narrowed eye scowl, rubbing his abused back as best he can. As soon as merchant spies Missandei shrinking further behind the Grey Worm’s back, he sizes the warrior up with a scoff. 

 

“ Do all eunuchs go about assaulting the masses?”, he snarls with spittle flying in foamy specks from his mouth. “ And why would  _ you _ take offense!? You can’t even do anything with her!”

 

Before the Stormborn Queen can order merchant’s silence, Grey worm buys it for her with quick butt of his shield across the man’s brow. The vendor’s head snaps back before sailing back forward as he crumples to the ground with a whiny mewl.

 

Daario Naharis woops loudly in amusement as the other second sons join his raucous laughter. “ Hit a nerve, did he? I’ll know not to joke about it from now on.”

 

The long haired rogue wields around to face his men and waves his arms in an animated fashion. “ Let that be a lesson to the lot of you drunkards not to go taking a fancy to the Unsullied’s woman. That…” he quips with a jerk of his chin. “ could be you if...you’re lucky.”

 

Grey Worm, ignores their hearty laughter and moves the Unsullied reform a tight V around the the Queen and Missandei. As they proceed through the market he watches as Missandei absentmindedly rubs at her wrist. As she drops it he notices the angry red spots marring her arm and he feels himself burn.


	5. vugigon v. to kiss

The short blade slides through him as if his armour isn’t there. Thankfully it hits his ribs, halting the knife’s progress towards his lungs. It still burns his sides though, swimming through Grey Worm’s muscles like a conflicting jolt of ice and fire. 

 

He yells reflexively but does not waver in his attack as he butts and slits the throat of the men to his left. That enemy dealt with he turns and falls the man who stabbed him. As the harpy falls the dagger goes with him, searing his side once again. With so many of his men dead and him now wounded the other golden faces assassins encircle him in a tight knot of blades.

 

But he fights on undaunted, unflinching and boldly. Though he has felt something for the first time in a fight that unnerves him even as it lends him strength. 

 

He fights them because he is ordered to protect the city and the masked murders threaten his Queen’s city. He mows them down, guts them, sends them down in sputtering chokes because even where the Stormborn has been merciful these foes show her people none. But the undercurrent of resolution Grey Worm feels as he wields the spear is solely from born of  _ her _ .

 

His vision is tunneling and he is unable to attend to the blood slicking down his leathers and onto his thick belted sash. He is dying but he is afraid. The fear shames him but he does not deny what is. He is dismayed that he may never see her again, the woman from the isle of Naath, his mentor in language and friend in all things, Missandei. 

 

He wishes to see her smile again and even more than that, he desires to be the one to make her do so.

 

Grey Worm falls heavily to his knees and lurches. His body screams the way his body denies his voice.  _ Rest _ it begs but there is no rest for the unsullied. Unsullied rest in death and he is merely dying. His battle is not yet over so fight on he must. As he calculates the closing circle of men around him, a clamour erupts behind him.

 

Grey Worm turns to see Ser Barristan there, fighting and coming to his aid.  Many years his senior, the elder is as strong and as vibrant as any of Grey Worm’s men. As they weave through and fall the man around them it’s clear that the knight is more seasoned than anyone there. 

 

With the Westorose’s skills quite clearly outweighing that of his own, the masked sons of the harpy move to finish Grey Worm off so they can concentrate on only having to best the knight. 

 

Closing ranks, they come at him in a flurry of daggers and short swords. Grey Worm’s face is marred with a fierce scowl as he fights from his kneeling position when he hears ser Barristan cry out and thump heavily down to his knees. The harpy who has pierced him moves deftly to the knight’s back to slash his throat when Grey Worm cut him down. 

 

All three of them collapse into a heap on the ground and the last thing he sees is the sandy, stucco ceiling dotted with red above him as his vision darkens and the tolling of the bells dims.

 

When he is aware of his person once more the Unsullied commander is in pain. He is overly hot from where he lays and chilled by the air passing over him. As he rouses his body tremors and rocks against the straw mattress. The wound at his side protests to the movement and bids him to lie still. His breath hiccups and stutters in his throat as he gasps at the air. He figures his ribs are bruised if not cracked and his muscles are still reknitting themselves. For all his pain, he lies in wonder at still being alive. Alive. How?

 

He opens his eyes again to find a dim shadow cast across the coverlet. He turns to find Missandei sitting there looking as grave as he’s ever seen her.

 

“ How long have I been here?” 

 

She replies, her quiet voice wavering in his eyes and he immediately asks after the knight who saved him. 

 

“ Dead.”

 

He turns his away from her and sighs silently in shame. He is distraught to find that the warrior is dead. A sharp sense of failure rings through him and he cannot face her. 

 

“ You fought bravely.”

 

She does not know how he fought she was not there. There was no courageousness about it, only duty and a drive to make every foe that opposed his Queen die for their defiance.

 

“ I fear.” He starts in the common tongue and see her face grow curious at the switch. “ I fear that I die.”

 

“ All men fear death.” She says to soothe him but he feels his head move to deny the claim.

 

“ I fear I die and never again see Missandei from the isle of Naath again.”

 

Her gaze drops to the ground and he watches her as she takes in his words. She seems so upset to hear them but facing death and living make survivors bold. He tells her because she must know why he reverted to feeling such a sensation that he cannot recall the last time he experiencing. Unsullied do not feel fear, what does that make him now?

 

When he looks at her eyes they are wet and red in sharp contrast to the pale blue shift she is it half draped in. She rises and he thinks it is to leave for the offensive he has caused her but she stands up and comes to rest on his side. 

 

His heart yet again betrays him as it canters like a horse when the pallet beneath him bows gently under her weight. He draws a ragged breath ignoring the sting that flashes through him as she leans closer until her face hovers above him.

 

This close to her he can smell the warm, sweet scent of her hair as she rolls her lip hesitantly between her teeth. Missandei’s eyes search his face before she finally settles her mouth over his and softly pushes against him.

 

When her lips brush his and spread their plush fullness against his it was more wonderful than he could have imagined. More terrifying than he had imagined because just as he feared his body reacts to her like oil to a flame. There is nothing to him that reacts like a full man would, nothing to stiffen and entice her to mount him but his arms come up from off the bed to cup her heart shaped face.

 

Her skin is incredibly soft even over the sharp line of her jaw and he finds himself worried that in his grip he might somehow harm her in her delicacy. His hold shifts from her face to her shoulders as her lips part and the soft, wet flesh of her tongue comes to lick at the seam of his mouth.

 

He stiffens at the motions so startled by how strangely the kiss is morphing. He follows her lead like has been trained to do when confronted by new battle tactics, bringing his lips apart and joins her.

 

They inhale audibly as their tongues met, pausing for a moment as the taste of the other floods their mouths. Then she curls her tongue against his slowly but firmly, trying to dominate him mouth as he feels her fingers curl into the sheets below him.

 

She was dueling him in a way unknown to those in his station and though he did not know the ways of man and woman he does know how to spar. His hands move with a confidence that he does not feel as they hold her neck and cup the back of her head and draw her closer. With his tongue as a spear and his teeth as a shield Grey worm thrusts, dodges and parries to turn the tide of battle in his favor. 

 

Though she is losing Missandei does not seem to care as she sighs into his mouth and brings herself lower towards his chest. Her intentions are clear as she tries hard not to irritate his wounds but he wants all that she would give him. Sliding the hand at her neck down he braces an arm against the small of her back and presses her against him. It hurts as expected but their is a pleasure in it too as her small, soft hands come up to rest beside his face. 

 

After what feels like minutes she gently pulls away and lays down beside him. Her hair tickles his face and he fights to move away or nuzzle into it.

 

With her hand on his chest, Missandei rests her head in the cradle between his neck and shoulders warming his collarbone with each exhalation. He never envisioned such a kindness for himself and as blissful as it is he finds himself needing to break the silence so he came know her mind. Swallowing with grunt as he tastes her still on his lips Grey Worm speaks aloud in common tongue.

 

“ Why Missandei...kiss Grey Worm?”

 

The second sons taught him this word and he hopes he pronounces it correctly as she has not drilled him about it as she does with the others.

 

He hears her breath catch in her throat before she silently expels it through her mouth. Maybe she did it out of pity because he failed so many of them or perhaps to comfort him in his malaise over Ser Barristan’s death but when she finally replies it is he who pities and comforts her.

 

“ I  _ kissed _ you because I was kindred in the same feeling of fear that I would not see you again...alive.”

 

He holds her to him and grieves that he cannot change for her. That he could love her wholly as a man, be her sire and have children with her. Even as free as he is, he will always be Unsullied, unable to be known, never a man and no longer a boy. The emotional attachment that she feels for him will profit her nothing but he would be a liar if he were to say he would be at peace if she went to another. He clears his throat now suddenly tight and stares up at the ancient ceiling above. 

 

“ I cannot marry Missandei. Can have no sons. Grey Worm cannot…” he stumbles over the word that he does not know in common tongue but finds too hard to speak in Valyrian. As he struggles with she draws her hand down his side and lightly holds him to her.

 

“ I do not care.” She says quietly against the skin of his neck. “ Not about that.”

 

As euphoric as the kiss was her unconditional acceptance of who he was makes it pale in comparison. That was not to say he did not indulge her desire to do so again. So when she moves to kiss him once more he shows his gratitude through his motions.

**Author's Note:**

> I intend to keep on adding to this until the season ends or one of them dies because George RR Martin won't allow me OTP/character happiness. Leave me thoughts and feels.


End file.
